


Dance Like Everyone Is Watching

by allmilhouse



Category: Bob's Burgers (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, bonding over frozen yogurt and 90's dance jams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 11:11:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14747721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmilhouse/pseuds/allmilhouse
Summary: While Mr Frond is drowning his sorrows in gas station frozen yogurt, Mr Ambrose shows up to begrudgingly appreciate his dance movesQuick tag for s8 e20 Mission Impos-slug-ble





	Dance Like Everyone Is Watching

"Well, another night, another Belcher-induced froyo therapy session," Mr Frond said to himself, idly turning the spoon in his hand. He sat on the trunk of his car, feet on the bumper, in the poorly-lit back corner of the Petrorama parking lot. He listened to the traffic speeding by on the nearby freeway, and glumly took another bite. People with places to be and friends to visit- meanwhile he's been shunned by all of his peers.

Phillip jumped when a beat-up hatchback whipped into the lot. He cowered in fear as the headlights locked onto him, and the driver emerged, hidden in the shadows.

“Mr Ambrose?” Frond asked, blinking from the harsh lights at the vaguely familiar shape in the distance.

“Yes, it’s me,” Ambrose announced dramatically, emerging from the shadows. He walked up to Frond’s car but stood a few steps away. He put his hands in his pockets and tried to seem nonchalant about the whole scenario, which Frond was still grappling with.

“What are you doing here? What happened to Martini Tuesday?”

“Martuesday,” Ambrose corrected. “It broke up after one of the weird Belcher kids crashed it.”

Frond laughed. “I’m sorry, it’s just good not to be on the receiving end of one of their shenanigans. Well, that’s not true. Louise had me dancing in the street tonight.”

“Yeah, we all saw,” Ambrose said.

“Oh,” Frond replied, getting defensive. “Is that why you tracked me down then? To make fun of me?”

Ambrose gasped. “Why would you say that?”

“Because that’s all everyone ever does,” Frond wailed. “I try and teach positive values to these ungrateful kids, and they mock me constantly! And then, the faculty is getting together behind my back, and never invites me, and-“

“Shut up!” Ambrose yelled, cutting him off. “You complain so much, and this is why we don’t invite you to things. You are so handsome, but you ruin it by talking too much!”

Frond was completely taken aback. Ambrose was prone to outbursts like this, but having one of your colleagues berate you in a parking lot late at night is usually unexpected. He was still digesting the words when he noticed.

“Wait, handsome? You think I’m handsome?”

Ambrose just shook his head. “See? You’re still talking. It ruins the moment!” But he softened, and looked at Frond with a smile. “But you have some impressive dance moves, and I want to see more of them sometime.”

Frond smiled back, and placed his half-eaten yogurt on his car. He reached out for Ambrose’s hand for help off the car.

“Are you trying to shake my hand?” Ambrose asked disgustedly. “You’ve got gross yogurt hands.”

“Just take it!”

Ambrose groaned dramatically, but helped Frond off of the car. Frond stepped over to his driver’s seat and started his ignition, and his 90’s dance jams CD began to gently play from the stereo.

Finally catching on, Ambrose hopped on Frond’s deserted car trunk and clapped along with the beat. With Ambrose’s bright headlights still blaring, and the man himself an enthusiastic, if loud, audience, Frond put on his best show in that empty parking lot.

For close to twenty minutes Ambrose cheered and hollered as Frond bust out some truly brave moves. They would’ve kept going, until the gas station attendant came over and chased them away.

“This isn’t some dance parlour, you crazy kids!” the old man yelled. Ambrose looked ready to start yelling back, but Frond de-escalated the situation by calmly holding his hand.

“It’s fine, we should be going anyway.” He yawned. “It’s way past my bedtime.” He looked down at their clasped hands. “Will I see you at school tomorrow?”

“Ugh, probably. LaBonz already said she was calling in sick, and we made a pact saying only one person gets to.” Ambrose sighed theatrically as he hopped off the car. “But come by the library at lunch, and you can finish your routine. Or don’t. I’m not your boss.” He swiftly grabbed the yogurt, kissed Frond on the cheek, and strode off back into the shadows where he left his car.

Frond placed a hand to his cheek and held it there, watching Ambrose drive off into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't realise Ambrose didn't have a canon first name, so sorry for any clunkiness there. Also he's probably a bit more manic than I was able to write. Also this is bad!! So like, sorry for everything


End file.
